


Suit

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Julian’s favourite customer stops by.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 14
Kudos: 90





	Suit

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s the only human on the station, and that would be an incredibly depressing fate if he were actually _lonely_. Maybe Julian should be. It’s not as though he has any colleagues—he just doesn’t trust the Cardassian population enough to employ any in his shop. He doesn’t have any _friends_ , at least, not aboard the station. His family’s all the way back home on Earth, and he wouldn’t want either of his parents to move closer to him. The only thing he has is one curiously enthralling doctor that wanders by from time to time. 

Elim Garak comes into the shop with the usual warm smile plastered across his face, something that Julian’s sure is insincere ninety-nine percent of the time. He hasn’t yet determined if it’s genuine when facing _him_. Garak weaves around the multiple stands and displays, heading right for the counter, chasing Julian down like Julian’s the only thing on the station worth his interest. But he’s a thriving professional aboard a successful station of fellows Cardassians, and Julian’s one lone exiled human in the one place Starfleet won’t think to look for him. No one on Terok Nor has any reason to take particular interest in him. 

Garak smiles like he’s _fascinating_. Garak folds his arms across the counter and leans over it, physically giving off all the right signs, at least _pretending_ to be colloquial. Garak all but purrs in greeting, “How is my plain, simple tailor doing today?”

“Plain and simple,” Julian easily replies, not at all surprised by the twinkle in Garak’s dark eyes. He knows that Garak thinks that title a joke—he’s quite convinced Julian is some super spy like that one holo-program Julian never should have shared. Maybe he’s even figured out _why_ Julian’s been exiled. Maybe the altered genes amuse him, or maybe he’s just a natural tease. Either way, Julian informs him, “I’m afraid your new sweater isn’t ready yet. But I promise it’s my top priority.”

In truth, it’s Julian’s _only_ priority. He completes all his work exactingly and punctually, but Garak’s orders are the only ones that ever garner _special attention_. Not that Julian would ever let Garak know that. Garak’s quite coy enough without that ego boost, and besides, stating anything outright would ruin their game. 

Garak’s smile twitches at the edges, and he smoothly counters, “I didn’t come for my sweater—your estimate was quite reasonable enough.”

“Oh? Did you want to order the matching pants after all?” Julian had pushed for that, if only for a chance to measure Garak’s legs. He probably would’ve gotten away with it if Gul Dukat had wandered into the shop at that moment and completely ruined the mood. Garak’s thin grin portends that he’ll be getting those pants one day, with a proper, more _private_ fitting session to match.

In the meantime, he drawls, “Actually, I’d like the pleasure of your company.” 

Julian’s brow actually knits together. He’s hardly surprised Garak’s asking him out, but he’s definitely surprised Garak’s _asking him out_. Garak’s never so forward in his wording.

Then Garak slyly adds, “For a casual lunch on the promenade, of course. I’m on my break, you see.”

“Ah. Of course.” Perhaps it was foolish of him to automatically assume Garak meant for a bottle of kanar in his quarters after hours. But that was definitely where Julian’s mind went. He’d been ready to suspiciously say _yes_. He still agrees, “I suppose I could slip away for a few minutes.”

“How delightful. Although, I feel I should warn you—if you help ease one dreadfully dull lunch break, I’m liable to invite you for others.”

“How horrible,” Julian muses. He has a feeling that once they start, there’ll be _many_ other lunches. And he’ll enjoy them all. 

He closes the shop down for that lunch, and then again tomorrow.


End file.
